There's a dame with Keller next time he's at the Em. Her name is Shirley. She's a ritzy dame that showed up at his office on the wrong side of town with problems. Just imagine the kind of problems money builds up in someone's life. Must be nice. She didn't know what they were there for.

People

"Why couldn't we have met in your office?" Her eyes have that somewhat frightened and very intrigued quality that he sees once to often in dames, especially in his line of work with his mysterious body language floating between them.

You can never change the way they feel

"Baby, I took your case. We'll meet here because then you won't have to ruin that pretty white mink of yours elsewhere." He gives her the patented Keller smile and she blushes, looking down at her tennis bracelet with fake fascination.

Better let them do just what they will

"Well, there's just so many other places we could meet that would be just as non-descript." Shirley's whining a bit. Keller wonders why she doesn't just say what she means with her slight Southern quiver in her throat. Shirley is afraid of being here. She's afraid of the bouncer, who still hasn't dropped that same damn coin since Keller became a regular. She's afraid of the quietly intelligent bartender Sid as well, though it's not so common for a bartender of the African nature to be the lead bartender here.

For they will

Truth is, Keller hasn't missed a performance of Beecher's. They've been here, week after week, Beecher and Keller the only two constants in one of those ever-changing world scenarios. It never fails. He'll be here in the midst of dinner, even daring Beecher to say one thing while he eats his Chinese crap on the couch. He'll be working reconnaissance for a case and then he'll hear the time over the radio and he'll drop the mooch that he already knew was cheating with the sister.

If you let them still your heart from you-People

Most nights he goes backstage to the dressing room. He stares and it clearly unnerves Beecher, who's not used to the kind of attention he's receiving. Beecher's a trooper though, never calling out for the bouncer or MacManus. He just watches Keller watching him take drink after drink, letting the slow poison work its way throughout his body. Occasionally, Keller will catch him dragging a bit of snuff from the parchment in his inner pocket. But he'll still be silent. Because Chris Keller is learning about Beecher. He's learning and he's exceedingly fascinated.

Will always make a lover feel a fool

Beecher doesn't bother to clean the place up. Keller will find the same shirts hung over the same spots for weeks at a time. The guy either lives in the dressing room or doesn't care to clean up. The decanter being clean and full seems to be the only thing in the guy's life that matters. Only when Shirley enters does Beecher come to life. She's another of the audience; Keller's a part of the symphony of destruction now.

But you knew I loved you

"I'm sorry. I don't think the room's quite hospitable enough for a lady such as yourself." Beecher's voice is full of gravel, as though he's not used to speaking.

Shirley leans on one of the arms of the couch as daintily as possible. "It's all apart of evening's festivities, I suppose. You're a fine singer, Mr. Beecher."

"Why thank you."

We could have shown them all

"What I mean to say is…who represents you? Do you have any victrola records I could purchase?" Shirley's eyes are looking for an excuse to be here. Keller's purely delighted.

Beecher thinks about his response for just a moment before shaking his head. "This is just a hobby."

"Well, what do you do?" Beecher blinks sadly and Shirley continues to form the question in a polite a way as she can muster. "What do you support yourself with?"

We could have seen love through

"If music be the food of love, play on." That's the best response Beecher can come up with. Keller takes the hint. It confirms suspicions that he's had all along.

"That's so beautiful. Did you write that?" She tilts her head and extends her hand. "My name is Shirley…well, just call me Shirley."

Beecher takes the hand, noting the ritzy gloves. "I can't take the credit for it, no. Now, I do hate to cut this fun time short but the life of an artist is quite..." Beecher glances over to Keller, "private."

Shirley stiffens in her seat. "Oh, I see. Well, then, I best be on my way. Mr. Keller?"

Chris catches her gaze and blinks, undisturbed. "You know where the cab companies are."

"You're not going to escort me home?" Shirley's voice rises slightly in alarm.

"Nope. I gave you the information you required. Our business tonight is done."

Shirley hurries to exit. She turns to Chris from the hallway. "We'll see when our business is done, Mr. Keller. It was a pleasure Mr. Beecher."

Beecher nods with a weak smile as she turns on her heel and hurries toward the exit. Keller kicks the door closed at the hinges with one of his feet. He stands there, delighted and waiting for a response. He doesn't have to wait long.

Fooled me with the tears in your eyes

"What the hell was that all about?"

"Ah. So Toby does have other feelings than despair. Let's root around a little and see what kind of anger I can dig up."

Covered me with kisses and lies

"I don't appreciate you calling me Toby. We don't know each other that well."

Chris goes to sit on the couch. He reaches for another apple. "Well, that's not exactly my fault, is it?"

"This is my dressing room, Mr. Keller. Get out." Tobias bears his teeth a little for good measure.

So bye, but please don't take my heart

Chris shakes his head in response. "Nope, still anger. And what are you going to do about it? Are you going to call Schilly to have me taken away?" Beecher stands stock still for a moment before Keller responds. He goes back towards his mirror and bottle. "I didn't think so."

After two shots of whatever amber liquid is in the container, Beecher finally speaks again. "Do you mind telling me what you're still doing here?"

Chris bats his eyelashes innocently. "I'm a fan. Can't I bask in the glow of your presence?"

Beecher explodes, sending some sort of container flying into the wall. He snarls at Chris. "Liar! What do you want?"

"Passion. I like the passion."

"You want to see passion?"

Chris stands and walks over to the fuming Beecher. "Yeah. I do."

It was when Chris leaned in for the kiss, nose to nose and the smallest of millimeters from the lips that he feels the force of Beecher's hands pushing him away. He falls back towards the couch. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Chris shrugs. "Giving into a bit of temptation. That's not crime, you know. And it's not as though I were the only willing participant in the adventure…"

"Get out."

"You know, my apartment's not much, but it's got a bit more room if you'd like to continue this conversation…"

"Fine." Beecher snorts, grabbing for his jacket in a huff and barreling down the other end of the stage toward the back exit.

Keller looks around in the aftermath of his exit and shakes his head. He knows Beecher will be back only because he has nowhere else to go.